


A Batdad Father's Day

by CloakedSparrow



Series: Collected Bat-Family Stories [19]
Category: Bat Family (DCU), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Children, Bat Family, Batdad, DaddyBats, Father's Day, Gen, No Romance, No Sex, Short One Shot, batkids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 13:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloakedSparrow/pseuds/CloakedSparrow
Summary: Bruce's children each have their own way of acknowledging the holiday (or in some cases, not).





	A Batdad Father's Day

Bruce never expected to have to acknowledge Father’s Day after his own father died.

While it was true that Alfred filled the role for him, he just couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it with words, written or spoken. He hoped Alfred understood. That he knew how much he meant to Bruce anyway. He probably did. Alfred seemed to know everything.

Bruce hadn’t expected Dick to acknowledge the holiday either. The homemade card and breakfast tray that was obviously put together by a smaller and less skilled hand than Alfred’s caught him by surprise in way nothing had in years. Bruce doubted that Dick failed to notice his reaction. The boy was very observant and had a natural ability to read people.

However, Dick just gave Bruce a hug and whispered “Happy Father’s Day” before retreating to his own breakfast and asking Bruce what the plan for the day was, as if everything was normal.

Years passed. Dick grew up. Robin flew away and returned as Nightwing. The Father’s Day cards and poorly prepared breakfasts remained. Every year, Bruce got the same hug and sincerely whispered sentiment. “Happy Father’s Day.”

Every year, Bruce was still surprised. These days he recovered quickly enough to return the hug.

Jason didn’t seem to know what to do about the holiday. He was always awkward and distracted on Father’s day. Finally, he started avoiding Bruce altogether on that day.

Bruce wasn’t upset. In fact, he was a little warmed by the thought that Jason was torn about whether he should acknowledge Bruce as his father or not. He hadn’t expected Jason to consider celebrating it with him at all.

Bruce always made it a point to ask Jason how he was on that day, in the hopes that his second son would realize it was okay to be upset or confused. That he didn’t have to do anything special for Bruce to have a happy Father’s Day. He just had to be there.

Years passed. Jason grew up. Robin died and Red Hood emerged from his grave. Every year, no matter what was happening, no matter what Bruce said or did, he knew he would not be seeing or hearing from Jason on that day.

Every year, Bruce opened a comm channel he rarely used and spoke five words before shutting it off. He knew he wouldn’t get a response but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jason might hear the words. “How was your day, Son?”

Bruce’s heart broke and simultaneously mended itself into a warmer, stronger one the day he awoke to a small package on the end of his bed. There was only a small label, written in a familiar hand. “To Bruce. Love, Tim.”

There was no card. No wishes of ‘Happy Father’s Day’. Bruce knew how hard it could be to try to write that phrase to someone else after your first father was murdered, no matter how much you loved and cherished the second one. The crushed, half filled out and tear-stained card he found in the trash (after Alfred asked him to check the compacter) meant more to him than he could ever say. The fact that Tim had tried spoke volumes about what he felt for Bruce.

If Bruce took the opportunity, at some point in the day, to offer his son a squeeze to the shoulder or pat on the back, just some sign of affection he knew he should use more often, then maybe Tim understood that the sentiment was returned.

Not as much time passed as there should have. Still, Tim grew up... too soon, as the situation required. Robin was wretched away and Red Robin was carved to fill the remaining void. Every year, Bruce received a small gift -usually practical, sometimes sentimental- with a short label that said more than enough.

Every year, Bruce tried to find some small way to show his third child that he was cared for.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the tacky, store bought Father’s Day card and the childish handwriting addressing it to him, from Cassandra. His daughter was a little baffled by the holiday, he knew. She’d never celebrated it with her first father.

Most of the little holidays and social expectations that Cassandra didn’t understand were simply ignored. That she chose not to ignore this one, but to acknowledge it in some way, meant a lot to Bruce.

Bruce always made it a point to let her know how proud of her he was. They shared a small but sincere smile and then continued training or kicking criminal asses together.

Again, not as much time passed as there should have. Cassandra grew up too quickly. Batgirl was cast aside and Black Bat emerged from the shadows. Every year, Bruce received a tacky but beloved store bought card, sometimes delivered by the young woman herself, sometimes in the mail. The handwriting improved over time. “To Bruce. Happy Father’s Day. -Cassandra.”

Every Year, Bruce made it a point to let his daughter know how proud he was of her, whether it was in person or by some other form of communication.

Damian was going to be the death of Bruce, of that he was certain. For all the times he had to stop the boy from insulting one of his siblings and declaring himself the only ‘true’ child of Bruce’s, the boy truly didn’t seem to understand family. Bruce expected he would either make a big scene on Father’s Day in an attempt to claim the day from his siblings or otherwise write it off as useless sentiment and ignore it.

He did not expect Damian to wake him up early and demand an extra training session. When Bruce joined Dick for their usual Father’s Day breakfast, Dick offered Damian a seat. Before he sat, Damian muttered “Happy’s Father’s Day.” Bruce wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

It wasn’t until later, after Damian had left the room that he figured it out. Dick pointed out that the training was Damian trying to carve some extra time just for them on Father’s Day. Bruce realized the words had been for both of them.

He found he was alright with that.

When Dick hugged him and whispered “Happy Father’s Day”, Bruce returned the hug and whispered the same words back. Dick was so surprised that he didn’t notice Bruce held him a little longer than usual.

In a hidden compartment in the back of Bruce’s closet was a box filled with homemade Father’s Day cards, store bought ones and small labels written lovingly. They were some of his most cherished possessions.

Little did he know, Alfred had a box filled with similar cards for Mother’s Day or Grandparents Day from his children that he cherished just as much.


End file.
